The intended purpose of this blog post is to use my personal experiences with ADHD as a means of helping others to make sense of their experiences with ADHD, either as the person with ADHD or the supporter of an ADHDer.
Please read this to the end and know a more uplifting resolve is coming.
Awkward Kid, Awkward Childhood
A lot of my early childhood experiences at home and in school reflected an ongoing feeling that I was “different” or somehow “defective.” There seemed always to be this (mostly) unspoken frustration from adults around me about my behavior or difficulties with learning.
Impulsivity and brashness in my behavior and tendencies to interrupt others.
Quick temper flare-ups that lasted for long periods.
Shyness around new people and new environments.
Lack of motivation to “try harder.”
Noticeable level of immaturity for a boy in elementary and middle school.
I knew I was depressed or at least showing signs of being depressive at around the age of 12. I was unaware that this was a considerable level of insight for that age, but I also spent a lot of time in my head. In addition, I learned that remaining silent was often a better strategy because it resulted in a lot less yelling or punishment than blurting out something.
I spent a lot of time introspectively trying to solve the question, “What is wrong with me?” because I didn’t always have a source of support to help me get an outside perspective.
Sullen and withdrawn was how I learned to operate as a means of social survival.
Lacking motivation and self-efficacy in social domains in various environments was generalized from my overall lack of belief in myself as a student.
Reading and homework felt like punishment.
Having to remember and organize my assignments was embarrassing.
Criticisms were commonplace at home and in school; being forgetful was a source of ire from many adults.
Pent-up frustration led to many outbursts.
However, I was also a reasonably well-behaved, respectful child. In part, I was terrified of breaking rules or being looked at as “bad.” I wanted badly to please adults, and I prided myself on making them laugh.
People pleasing was my avenue to avoid punishment or criticism.
Humor became a protective barrier from hard feelings (my own or from others).
Coping Despite a Late ADHD Diagnosis
To cope with a late ADHD diagnosis, I spent a lot of time integrating a lot of compensatory skills and defense mechanisms. I had to switch between academic and social survival as I navigated various environments in school.
In my classes, I started to find motivation in the subjects I liked (humanities) and incorporated any creative thinking any time I could. For instance, in a middle school English class, I crafted an elaborate story about the robots I created, including my drawings. The drawings weren't required, but they motivated me to put in more than a minimum effort.
Some friends and I also ripped off and repurposed the storyline of the movie Golden Eye (a popular N-64 game at the time) for another English assignment to create a mini-play.
I learned that if given the latitude to think outside-the-box, I was more motivated to try harder. I also started answering and asking more questions in class. I wanted my teachers to see I was trying, even if my grades didn't always reflect my efforts. The encouragement I received from some of them gave me a boost to ensure I was more "present" in class.
The people-pleaser in me wanted my teachers to like or notice me.
Lastly, I started staying after school a lot more in my math classes to catch up or re-learn the concepts with more individualized attention. The rehearsal helped, but it also gave my teachers more context to my struggles; a few "a ha" moments were shared between a teacher and me in these sessions.
I had also become quite adept at self-deprecating humor; a person cannot hurt my feelings if I beat them to the punch.
Easy to see how all of these pent-up feelings and upfront defensiveness were deteriorating my self-esteem and global sense of self, huh?
I can navigate and survive work or social situations if I pre-empt criticisms.
Ironically, I think my quick wit and ability to put myself down also helps to ingratiate me with others. For all potential reasons why self-deprecating humor can be negative, it can demonstrate self-awareness and humility when used correctly.
It’s a matter of how it’s used, the context, and the weight or seriousness you add to it.
If it comes off as a clear bandaid on a significant problem, it’s neither humorous nor endearing.
It also prompts others to view you as a “doormat” they can step on because you view yourself the same way.
On top of being the “bull in a China shop” at times, I was also struggling to find my place in the world. Elementary and middle school came with the typical trappings of academic and social struggles that are common for people with ADHD. However, in high school, I was starting to bear the weight of my future.
Once standardized testing (e.g., SAT/ACT) started becoming the topic of conversation amongst teachers and peers, my anxieties increased. I live in New York, so I was already contending with the Regents Exams to graduate.
I was at the lowest level of math and was still struggling there. (Shout out to Mr. F for his unwavering support!)
I wasn’t tested and identified for ADHD until 10th grade, so I had already struggled for almost 10 full years.
The diagnosis was a helpful start, but meaningful conversations and insights wouldn’t come until I was in college.
Despite these challenges and humiliations, I knew I wanted to help others. As a kid, I always looked out for younger kids, and I tried to play with them. I guess I was cognizant of the other “outcasts” who weren’t playing with friends.
Hard Fought Self-understanding and Growth
I was also starting to get more support for ADHD, so I eventually decided I wanted to go to college to become a teacher to help others. Perhaps this was the missing piece for me?
I also found a support program that gave me a firm foundation that allowed me to grow as a student and person gradually.
I was mixed in with other college students with similar backgrounds and academic or social issues.
No one seemed to “care” that I had ADHD, in a good way. I wasn’t stigmatized in college.
However, I failed to account for the sheer amount of paperwork, tediousness, and data collection involved in teaching. I love presenting and public speaking, making connections, and helping others grow. I did not like how boring lesson planning was, nor did I see the importance of implementing action verbs in my planning to demonstrate effectiveness or student involvement.
I cannot stand being “boxed in” by structure, especially when it’s not self-imposed.
I always look for a different way to do something because I know someone else might need that alternative angle.
I am not conventional, so I cannot authentically comfortably convey conventionality.
My structural approach to adjuncting in college-level classes is outlining my main talking points, baking in some questions, examples, or anecdotes, but leaving myself enough space to speak.
Just enough structure to keep things moving without memorizing a “script” - my presentations become more natural and engaging. At least, I hope.
It took much time and experience to realize this and cultivate my organizational process.
My job titles have changed, but I have not lost sight of what’s most important: helping others. The willingness to extend out to help others will always be my life’s mission. I saw this with my father, and I believe wholeheartedly that I would not be where I am today without the support of others.
Evoking self-directed self-understanding in others and exchanging ideas gives me a sense of accomplishment.
Helping someone arrive at conclusions without pushing advice on them is gratifying.
Being a trusted person for someone struggling means more than any salary.
Many students have quipped, “Oh, you do that too?!” It’s always a wonderful experience for me. It feels like we’re both taking a much-needed deep breath.
Remove the mask(s), speak authentically, and develop a sense of trust within yourself despite how others might perceive you.
Actions speak louder than words, but so do intentions.
Break molds to find new solutions.
Does ADHD Get Better as You Age?
I don’t know. I want to say yes, but I don’t want to give false promises to others.
If reframed, the question could be more realistic and empowering. ADHDers aren’t always good with long-term future planning, so try these questions instead:
What steps am I taking right now to help me in the future?
What kindness can I show myself right now that I can repeat in the future?
Who am I trying to improve myself for – someone else or myself?
What aspects about myself can I/do I love regardless of how others might perceive them?
When you let go of the idea that progress needs to be linear or ever-trending upward and that setbacks can and do happen, you free yourself from the (self) imposed shackles of expectations outside your own.
Conventional ideas of “what is” and “what isn’t” acceptable often serve as a barrier for others.
Ableism becomes internalized.
You become your own worst critic to maintain the negative self-talk feedback loop.
In Summation
I have become more accepting that I am a square peg in a world of round holes.
I would rather be quirky than anxiously try to conform to someone else’s comfortable conventional ideas.
Respectfully, I encourage you to do the same.
Dustin.
Gagner